October 2 – Post-Game

Before I pushed open the door to the Pourhouse, I warned the kids to mind their manners.

“OK, we’re here,” I said to David and Maria when we arrived at Jimmy O’Reilly’s joint. “Now look, no gloating, all right? I know you’re excited that the Yankees won, and you should be, but just remember that as much as you love the Yankees, these guys love the Red Sox, and they’ve been loving their team a whole lot longer than you’ve been loving yours.”

They both nodded, though they did so with smiles on their faces, and we walked in. I was prepared for the scene, and I was not surprised that it was exactly the way I envisioned it. I figured the place had probably been jammed during the game, but by this time – almost three hours after Yaz’s pop fly had landed in Graig Nettles’ glove – only the regulars would be left, sitting at the bar, drowning their sorrows.

“Oh Jeez, here he comes,” Jimmy said as I walked over and offered my condolences.

“Boys, I don’t know what to say,” I said, trying to respect their pain. “It was a great game, but I know you really don’t want to hear that load of crap right now.”

“Well, I’ll give you credit for one thing, Lassiter, you’re smarter than you look,” Danny Fitzgerald said to me as he tipped his beer in my direction.

“Fellas, I brought a couple guests with me. This is my son, David, and his friend, Maria,” I said, introducing the kids to the guys. “I hate to tell you, but they’re Yankee fans. But I also warned them to keep their lips zipped.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Reilly, and I’m sorry for your loss, but just a little,” Maria said in her most pleasant manner.

Jimmy looked at me and said, “Do you really expect me to serve a drink to a coupla Yankee fans? Well, you got some damn nerve, Lassiter. You’re just lucky I like you.”

He then looked at the kids and smiled that ruddy Irish smile and said, “I’m just teasin’, and congratulations to you. I hope they get swept by the Royals.”

We all chuckled at that, and then David, Maria and I sat down at the bar as Jimmy took our orders.

“So, go ahead, I know you’re dying to ask,” I said to the guys as our beers were placed in front of us. This is part of the deal when I visit the Pourhouse. They want to know everything that was said in the clubhouses, and today, their appetites were voracious.

Mickey Rivers finally convinced Bucky Dent to switch bats and it worked out pretty well.

“OK, what the hell did that little twerp, Dent, have to say?” Louie Carbala asked.

“I didn’t know it was a home run,” Dent had told the media horde crowded around his locker. “When I hit it I hoped it would make the wall and I just put my head down and kept running. Then when I turned toward second I saw the umpire circling that it was a home run.”

Danny then leaned over and asked me about Mickey Rivers giving Dent a different bat. “What was up with that?”

I gave him Rivers’ explanation: “Bucky and myself use the same type of bat. They actually belong to Roy White, but he doesn’t use them so he let us have them. The one we had been using had a little chip in it, so I asked our clubhouse guy if he had any more and there was one left. I taped it up and told Bucky the new one felt good, but he said he was going to stick with the old chipped one. I was on him to change, and I was even yelling at him from the on-deck circle that I had the bat with me. Finally, when the ball hit his foot and he was being treated, I grabbed the bat boy and told him to take the bat up and take away the one Bucky had.”

Jimmy just shook his head and said, “You gotta be kiddin’ me. Rivers gives him a new bat and with the first swing he hits a home run? Damn thing was probably corked.”

Jimmy wanted to know why Rick Burleson didn’t go to third on Jerry Remy’s single in the ninth, a pivotal play that probably cost the Red Sox the tying run. “When Jerry hit the ball, I couldn’t go right away,” Burleson had said. “I didn’t know if Piniella was going to catch it. Then I saw the expression on his face, saw that he didn’t know where the ball was, and I started running. When I turned, I saw he had the ball and it was too late.”

I had also talked to third base coach Eddie Yost about that play, and Yost had told me, “I was waving for him to keep coming. I saw it was a hit from the beginning. I guess Rick didn’t know and he had to hold.”

Rick Burleson's base-running gaffe probably cost Boston the chance to score the tying run in the ninth.

“Right there is the difference between us and them,” Louie said. “They make the plays, and we don’t.”

Maria asked me if any of the Yankees said anything about beating Torrez, who used to be a Yankee and had said some derogatory things about his former team during the course of the season.

“As a matter of fact, Graig Nettles had plenty to say about that,” I said, and then I shared Nettles’ comments with the gang.

“I’m glad we won, but the thing that makes me happiest is that we did it by beating Torrez,” Nettles said. “We owed him that. He’s been bad-mouthing us all year and we didn’t appreciate that. If it wasn’t for us he wouldn’t have been in position to sign a $2.7 million contract. Maybe this will teach him to keep his mouth shut.”

“And you wonder why we hate them damn Yankees?” Jimmy said.

The conversation spun in a few directions after that, and then Maria shared an encounter she and David had in one of the bars on Lansdowne Street after the game. They bumped into another young Yankee fan, and he’d said that as much as he wanted the Yankees to win, he really felt bad that it was Yaz who made the final out because he’s too classy of a player to suffer that fate.

I agreed with that sentiment, and I shared with everyone the fact that Yaz sat there in that gloomy Boston clubhouse for 40 minutes answering our questions.

“My insides are eating me up right now,” he said. “It’s hard to express how I feel, but in a couple of days I guess it’ll wear off. I’ll go fishing for a couple weeks and start getting ready for next year.”

I had asked him if he thought he was just destined to be a future Hall of Famer who won’t ever win a World Series, a close-but-no-cigar career. He’d contemplated that for a second and said, “Someday we’re gonna get that cigar. Before old Yaz retires, he’s going to play on a world champion.”

It just won’t be this year, even though for most of the year, it looked like the Red Sox had the team to do it.

“That’s as fine a man as has ever played for the Sox,” Jimmy said. “He deserved better this year.”

And with that, Jimmy poured everyone a fresh beer, and I proposed a toast. “To the Red Sox, and the Yankees. Thanks for giving us a game, and a season, that none of us will ever forget.”

“Screw you Lassiter, I’d be happy to forget it,” Danny said as he took a draw off his beer while everyone else let out a good belly laugh.

October 2 – The Middle Innings

It’s Monday afternoon, and I’ve never seen the Pourhouse this crowded, maybe ever. Then again, this is no ordinary Monday afternoon.

Folks started filterin’ through the door around two o’clock, a half hour before they started over at Fenway, and I had to wonder if all of Boston just shut down today so everyone could get home or get to their favorite waterin’ hole to watch the game.

Danny Fitzgerald finished up his mail route a little earlier than usual, and he was on his corner stool just as the game was startin’. Louie Carbala split from his job selling Carnation products around three and was in his seat by the second inning. John Gaffney wasn’t going to make it until after it was over because he’s the head football coach over at Boston College High and they had practice after school. But I’m not sure Gaff is too concerned about it, football meathead that he is.

I swear, it seemed like all of Southie was here. It was probably this jammed on some of those nights during the ’75 World Series against the Reds, and maybe on a few of those days back in ’67 when we lost to the Cardinals. But my memory ain’t what it used to be, so if ya don’t mind, I’m callin’ this the most crowded I’ve ever seen the joint.

Me and Nora could barely keep up with the bar, and of course, with me tryin’ to watch the game, she was doin’ more work than I was, and she wasn’t too thrilled.

“Cut me some slack, sweetheart,” I said to her. She growled something, and I’m sure there were a few cuss words in there. Ah, she’ll get over it. She’s been puttin’ up with me for twenty-some years.

What really saved our butts was Irene. My lovely wife cooked up a vat of her famous clam chowder, and she hauled it over and served it to whoever wanted some. I’m happy to report that there weren’t any idiots in the place – they all wanted some.

So we had people drinkin’ beer, slurpin’ soup, and cheerin’ the good start for the Sox. Yaz’s homer in the second inning was a shocker cuz we didn’t think he could handle Ron Guidry, not at 39 years of age. But he turned on a fastball and got it down the line where it’s pretty short. Hey, it counts just the same as one of Jim Rice’s 400-foot bombs, right?

Things stayed that way through the fifth, the Sox clingin’ to that 1-0 lead, and Mike Torrez was lookin’ great. In fact, he was pitchin’ better than the great Guidry, who just didn’t seem to be throwin’ as hard as he usually does.

We were sayin’ that in the sixth when Rick Burleson led off with a double, Jerry Remy bunted him over to third, and Rice singled to left to make it 2-0. The place was hoppin’, everyone was slappin’ each other on the back, and I guess you could say we all started gettin’ ahead of ourselves a little bit. But how the hell could you blame us? It was obvious Guidry didn’t have his best stuff, it looked like Torrez did, and it just seemed like it was gonna be our day.

But if there was one thing that had me a little worried – ya know, about the Red Sox cursed fate and all – it was a play that occurred at the end of the sixth. Rice had moved to second on a ground out by Yaz, so the Yankees decided to intentionally walk Carlton Fisk so that Guidry could pitch to the lefty-swingin’ Fred Lynn, even though Lynn has been our hottest hitter lately.

Lou Piniella made an outstanding play to save at least a run in the sixth inning.

Guidry threw him what looked like a weak breakin’ ball – like I said, he just didn’t have his best stuff pitchin’ on three days’ rest – and Lynn roped it into right field. We all jumped up cuz it looked like it was either gonna be a home run, or maybe it would go off the wall for a double. Either way, we were scorin’ some runs. Instead, Lou Piniella, who admitted afterward that he could barely see the ball cuz the sun was so bright, reached up and caught it.

What? Are you kiddin’ me? What a lucky son of a gun he was on that. No one could figure out why Piniella was even there, playin’ pretty close to the line, cuz Lynn never pulls the ball like that. Yet there Piniella was, positioned perfectly. And no one could believe Piniella actually caught it cuz they showed the replay and it was obvious he had no idea where the ball was. He put his glove up, and the ball found it.

There was a loud groan when that happened, and I couldn’t shake the feelin’ that it was a bad sign. Even though we were still up, 2-0, we coulda had a couple more runs there, and two runs just ain’t enough against these damn Yankees.

Everything seemed to be OK, though, in the seventh. Chris Chambliss singled with one out, and then Roy White singled and Chambliss went to second. But just as we were startin’ to squirm, Torrez got pinch-hitter Jim Spencer to fly out, so with two outs, little Bucky Dent stepped up to the plate.

If there was one guy in the Yankee lineup we weren’t too worried about, it was Dent. He’s a singles hitter, and he’s never been the kinda guy who comes through in the clutch. In fact, I’m sure the Yankees would have pinch hit for him in this situation, but they couldn’t. With Willie Randolph injured, the Yankees had some kid named Brian Doyle at second. Spencer pinch-hit for Doyle, and that meant that utility infielder Fred Stanley would be goin’ in to play second for Doyle in the bottom of the seventh. Bob Lemon had no one else to play shortstop, so he had to let Dent hit.

We were discussin’ all this stuff as Dent took ball one, then fouled the next pitch off his foot and was hoppin’ around in pain and the trainer was out there tryin’ to ease some of his discomfort. Meanwhile, the Yankee bat boy came out and took Dent’s bat and handed him a new one. I thought that was kinda odd, but didn’t give it a second thought.

Anyway, Dent finally got himself back into the batters’ box, with his new bat, and we were all feelin’ pretty good cuz now he’s got a sore foot, and maybe he wouldn’t be able to swing right, or run as well if he hit one on the ground. Torrez came set, looked at both runners, and then threw a fastball that tailed inside just a bit. Dent swung, connected, and the ball soared into left field.

Watchin’ on TV, based on the angle of the flight as the ball left the bat, we all figured it would wind up in Yaz’s glove in front of the Green Monster, and that would be the end of the inning. But as the camera picked up the ball, we could see that it was flyin’ further than we thought. In fact, Yaz turned his back to the infield and was preparin’ to field the carom off the wall.

We wish that’s what woulda happened. Instead, that damn ball kept carryin’, and it ended up in the net above the wall. Home run. 3-2 Yankees.

Absolute silence in the bar. Absolute silence at Fenway. And as they showed Dent runnin’ around the bases, then steppin’ on home plate and being greeted by White and Chambliss, Danny just shook his head and said, “Bucky F****** Dent.”

October 2 – First three innings

David was trying to be a gentleman, a knight in shining armor, but it was ridiculous what he was proposing to do – driving all the way down to the Bronx to pick me up for the trip to Boston.

“I can do it,” he pleaded. “I’ll leave around three in the morning, get there about eight or so, and we’ll be fine. That’ll put us in Boston by about noon.”

“I know you can do it, but you’d really earn some stupid points, ya know?” I said to him.

“What do you mean? I’m just trying to make it easy for you.”

“And I appreciate that, but it doesn’t make any sense for you to come all the way down here. I can take the train up to Hartford. You can get off the Thruway in Springfield, take 91 down to Hartford – it’s about 30 miles or so – pick me up there, and we’ll still get to Boston in plenty of time. And here’s the best part – you won’t be exhausted, or even worse, dead because you won’t fall asleep at the wheel.”

Rather than be a typical rock-headed guy, David realized I was right, and to his credit, he agreed to do it my way. So my alarm went off at about five, just about the time he was getting into his car in Rochester, and by 10 o’clock we were together in his beat up Chevy Malibu, on the way to Fenway Park for the winner-take-all playoff game between the Yankees and Red Sox.

We talked about a lot of things as we headed East on the Mass Pike, but most of the time was spent discussing the fact that we were going to be watching history unfold today.

There hadn’t been a special playoff game like this in the AL since the Red Sox and Indians had to decide the 1948 pennant. That one was at Fenway, too, and the Red Sox lost to Cleveland. “Let’s hope history repeats itself,” David said.

I was so excited to get the chance to watch this in person, but at the same time I was so nervous and I felt like I wanted to puke. I go crazy during games in June. Imagine this, with the AL East division and a trip to the playoffs on the line?

Carl Yastrzemski got the Sox off to a quick start with a solo homer in the second inning.

Well, Mr. Lassiter was right, and we started understanding that as soon as we got near the ballpark. After we parked in a nearby garage, we walked to where Mr. Lassiter was going to meet us with the tickets on Lansdowne Street, and what a scene we encountered. There were no seats available for the game, but there were a whole lot of people milling around, hoping that some would materialize out of thin air, I guess.

There were large groups, mostly people our age, chanting obscenities, getting into fights, and pretty much making asses of themselves. I gotta admit, I was a little worried, even with all the Boston policemen there on horseback trying to maintain order. When we met up with Mr. Lassiter, he said hello very politely to me, gave David a hug, and then said, “Give me those hats right now. What did I tell you?” We both agreed, took them off, and handed them over. Sometimes father does know best.

“You kids be careful,” Mr. Lassiter said as he turned to walk away. “And I hope you enjoy the game. See you later.”

I hate the Red Sox, but Fenway is pretty awesome. What a cool place, and you can’t appreciate that Green Monster out there in left field until you see it in person. And what an atmosphere inside the stadium. Electric is what it was. Every pitch that was thrown, there was a roar. It was so neat to be a part of it, and what was weird for me is that I’ve never gone to see the Yankees on the road, so I wasn’t used to them being booed for everything they did.

I just wish there had been more booing early in the game. The sellout crowd, which was about 99.9 percent Red Sox fans, didn’t have a whole lot to boo because things went pretty well for the Sox.

Mickey Rivers led off the game with a walk against Mike Torrez. He stole second and right away David and I, the only two Yankee fans in our section, started thinking the Yankees would get the early jump in the game. But Rivers stayed right there as Torrez retired Thurman Munson, Lou Piniella and Reggie Jackson in order.

Ron Guidry worked a perfect first, Torrez mowed the Yanks down 1-2-3 in the second, and then the Red Sox took the lead when Yaz hit one down the right field line that just cleared the fence inside the Pesky Pole. The place was going crazy, and David and I just sat there as people all around us were jumping up and down and giving us the business. What a horrible feeling.

Rivers doubled in the third, but again was left there when Munson struck out for the second time. Boston had a chance to score in its half when George Scott led off with a double and took third on a sacrifice, but Guidry got Rick Burleson to ground to third and Scott couldn’t score, and then Jerry Remy flied to left.

So at the end of three, it was 1-0 Red Sox, and it was time to flag down a fellow vendor for a couple beers.

September 28, 1978

Maybe someday there will be a time when all the Red Sox games are on TV, but until that day comes, all we have is the radio as an alternative. And tonight, there were about 15 or 20 people in the joint, all crowded around the bar, listenin’ to the Sox keep their hopes alive with a tense 1-0 victory over Detroit.

I remember growin’ up in the 30s, and my parents sittin’ around the radio listening to FDR’s fireside chats, and I couldn’t help but think about that as I looked around at my patrons.

All the regulars were in place – Danny Fitzgerald, of course, perched in his corner-of-the-bar seat – and standin’ behind them for a good part of the game was a second level of guys who couldn’t resist listenin’ to the broadcast.

Once upon a time we relied on the radio to hear our news. That's how it still is some nights when the Sox aren't on TV.

“Jeez, Jimmy, you shoulda charged admission tonight,” Louie Carbala said at one point.

When he walked in, Louie said, “Hey Jimmy, why did Captain Kirk take a leak on the ceiling?” And then when he delivered the punch line, that the over-acting Star Trek captain – “wanted to go where no man had ever gone before” – no one even laughed.

Louie was crestfallen, but Jeez, he came in just as the game was startin’ and Mike Torrez – whose been in the mother of all slumps lately – had already walked two guys in the top of the first and we were nervous as hell.

Louie plopped himself down with a pout, I mixed up a Seven-and-Seven for him, and then he was right into the game a few seconds later when the Sox turned a double play to get outta that early trouble.

We all knew Ron Guidry was pitchin’ down in New York tonight against the Blue Jays, so we pretty much figured that was gonna be a win for them. And sure enough, they won, 3-1. So this was a must-win for the Sox, it was like a playoff game in every way, and we all knew it.

After that early threat in the first, the Tigers had another chance to score in the top of the fourth, but Fred Lynn threw Jason Thompson out at the plate for the final out as he tried to score on a single by Milt May. That brought a big roar from the gang and some toasts in honor of Freddie.

Then in the bottom of the fourth, Jim Rice mashed one to straightaway center field for a home run that wound up being the only run of the night. It was windy over here in Southie, and that always means it’s windy over at Fenway, and Ned Martin on the radio was sayin’ it was blowin’ fierce out there.

Doesn’t matter for Rice, though. If he gets ahold of one, he can hit it through a hurricane.

“With that cross wind, I didn’t think it could be done,” said Detroit manager Ralph Houk. “He hit the hell out of that ball. He’s just about the strongest guy I’ve ever seen with a bat.” And that’s from a guy who managed Mickey Mantle!

After that it was all about whether Torrez could hold on and get his first win in about a millennium. And he did. He got into a slight jam in the sixth, but he made a great play to turn a double play. After Lou Whitaker drew a lead-off walk, Phil Mankowski popped up a bunt back to the mound, and Torrez let it drop in front of him on purpose. Whitaker had stayed put thinking Torrez would catch the ball, so Mike picked it up, fired to second, and Rick Burleson relayed to first to get Mankowski who also sorta froze and watched it all happen.

Mike Torrez was a hero for the Yankees last year, and he's trying to do the same thing for the Red Sox this year.

“I knew I’d have a chance,” Torrez said. “I glanced over and saw Whitaker wasn’t far off first so I let it drop and took the chance.”

In the seventh, Torrez walked Steve Kemp, but May hit a grounder to Jerry Remy who turned two, and then Torrez retired the last seven men he faced, with all of us starin’ into the radio as if that would help us see what was goin’ on.

“Hey, Torrez pitched a great game,” said Yaz. “Sure, he had a lot of walks, but the guys helped with four double plays.”

It was his first win in his last nine starts, and Torrez said, “I hope I never go through anything like this again. I just hope I can get the chance against the Yankees on Monday.”

Well, how about this? Rather than needing to send Torrez out to beat the Yankees in a one-game playoff for the division crown, how about the Sox sweep the Blue Jays this weekend, and the Yankees lose two of three to Cleveland and we win it outright? That’d be a better plan, if you ask me.

Hey, from what we hear, that’s what the Indians manager, Jeff Torborg, says will happen. He was down in Baltimore today and he said before their game that he plans on winning two of three in New York.

Mr. Torborg, sir, we would appreciate that very much.

Yankees update: Ron Guidry won his 24th game, and with an .889 win-loss percentage, he would set a new record for best percentage by a 20-game winner. The record is 31-4 (.886) set by Lefty Grove of the Philadelphia A’s in 1931. Also, Guidry’s 1.72 earned-run average is the lowest by a left-hander pitcher since Carl Hubbell of the New York Giants had a 1.66 in 1933. Guidry struck out nine Jays, and that gave him 243 on the year, setting a new Yankee record, four more than Jack Chesbro had in 1904.

“Chesbro must have been a helluva pitcher,” said manager Bob Lemon, who saw his team score two runs in the sixth to break a 1-1 tie when Toronto first baseman Doug Ault made a bases-loaded throwing error. “But all I know about him is he’s old.”

September 24, 1978

I read Don Zimmer’s quote in the Globe this morning about how grueling yesterday’s game was, and how he called it the “toughest game” the Sox have played in about a month and a half.

Yeah, well that distinction didn’t last long, and Zimmer revised his rankings today after the Sox pulled off an amazin’ 7-6 victory over the pesky Blue Jays, a game that went 14 innings and took nearly five tortuous hours to play.

“Until Saturday I thought that was the toughest game,” Zim said. “This son of a gun tops ‘em all.”

“I’m exhausted,” Danny Fitzgerald said when Dick Drago got Dave McKay to fly to Jim Rice in left for the final out, ending the marathon. He was speakin’ for all of us, that’s for sure.

“I can’t take too many more of those,” Louie Carbala said. “I gotta find a new hobby. This is too damn stressful.”

Carl Yastrzemski said he's proud of the way his teammates have stayed focused and continued to fight.

We were ecstatic when the game ended, and there was some whoopin’ and hollerin’ when Rice squeezed that ball, but then there was this strange lull in the joint, and well let out a huge, collective sigh of relief. The guys around the bar, me included, looked like we’d all just gone 15 rounds with Muhammad Ali.

Nora Murphy was in for most of the day, and when she looked at us, she just shook her head and said, “You guys all need to get a life.”

So if we were whipped, you can imagine how the team feels. The Blue Jays wore the Sox out this weekend. They won that heartbreaker the first night, then fought tooth and nail yesterday before losin’, and then there was this advertisement for ulcer medication today. They may be a second-year franchise, and they may be a light year or two behind the Yankees in the division, but that team’s got some spunk, I’ll tell ya that.

“It’s been tremendous the way we’ve come back and battled,” said Carl Yastrzemski. “Now it’s just a matter of coming home and winning. We may be exhausted, but we should be proud. If we battle like this the rest of the way … I just hope Toronto goes into Yankee Stadium and plays the Yankees as tough as they played us.”

This game had more twists than Chubby Checker and more turns than the Ferris wheel at the county fair. Dick Stockton, the Sox broadcaster, reeled off the numbers after the game and they were a mouthful. The teams combined to use 39 players, there were 35 hits, 49 base runners, some wild pitches, a balk, and a couple failed suicide squeezes. It had everything, and thankfully, at the end of the day, it was a Boston victory because down in Cleveland, the Yankees beat the Indians, so we stayed within a game.

It sure didn’t start too well for us. Mike Torrez was lousy again, and he’s now winless in his last eight starts. Stockton shared those numbers with us viewers as well – 0-6, 5.37 ERA in that time frame. Today, he gave up three runs on six hits in the first two innings.

The Sox tied it with three in the third on a bunch of singles and Jerry Remy’s steal of home, and they went ahead on Yaz’s solo homer in the sixth. But then Toronto scored three times in the eighth off Torrez, Bill Campbell and Bob Stanley – the last two coming on Rick Cerone’s two-run double – and they were up 6-4 going to the ninth. You could hear Nora’s pencil on the paperwork in the back room, it was so damn solemn.

A bad hop grounder that caromed off Roy Howell's throat sent the winning run home for Boston in the 14th inning.

But like Yaz said, these guys are battlin’ ’til the end, and they did again. Fred Lynn drew a walk and went to second on a wild pitch, and after Butch Hobson lined to left, George Scott drew a walk. Balor Moore came in to pitch for the Jays, and as he was throwin’ to pinch-hitter Bob Bailey, he caught his cleats on the mound and a balk was called, so the runners moved into scorin’ position. Bailey eventually walked to load ‘em up, and Rick Burleson hit a low screamer that went right under first baseman Willie Upshaw’s glove for a two-run single that tied it. The Sox tried to push across the go-ahead run with a squeeze, but Remy missed the ball and pinch runner Frank Duffy was dead meat at the plate.

After that, we were pullin’ our hair out ‘cuz the Sox had all kinds of chances to win and kept comin’ up short. Rice led off the 10th with a walk, but was left on second; Remy left men at first and second in the 11th with a ground out; Yaz hit a one-out triple in the 12th, but neither Carlton Fisk or Hobson could get him in; and in the 13th, Gary Hancock led off with a single and was stranded at second.

The Jays had some chances, too, but Dick Drago kept gettin’ out of trouble. “He’s been up every day in the bullpen, so few people realize how great that performance was,” said Zim.

Finally, in the 14th, Rice singled, Yaz bunted him to second, Fisk hit an AstroTurf special for an infield single, and after Lynn whiffed for the second out, Hobson hit a grounder to third that should have ended the threat, but it took a bad hop and struck Roy Howell in the throat. That allowed the winnin’ run to score.

Drago gave up a single in the bottom half, but that was it, and the Sox celebrated, and so did we. Not 10 minutes after the game was over, in came John Gaffney who had stayed home ‘cuz he knew we wouldn’t be watchin’ the Patriots game until the Sox were done. They were on the West Coast in Oakland, so the game started later, and they had just reached halftime, so he came in and said “OK, put a real sport on that damn tube.”

I gladly switched it over, and Boston’s big sports day came to a nice ending later that night when the Patriots pulled out a 21-14 victory over those hated Raiders and Jack Tatum, the guy who paralyzed our Daryl Stingley.

Yankees update: Ron Guidry, as he has done all year, dominated the opponent, this time the Indians. He fired a two-hit shutout as New York salvaged the final game of a disappointing three-game series in Cleveland, 4-0. “I approached the game the same as any other,” Guidry said. “I know this one was important, but every game is important. To me all the games are the same.”

This was the 14th time that Guidry had posted a victory following a New York loss, and his ninth shutout of the season tied Babe Ruth’s American League record for left-handers set in 1916.

The Yankees, who had lost five of their past eight games, grabbed a 2-0 lead in the fourth on run-scoring singles by Graig Nettles and Lou Piniella. In the seventh, Bucky Dent and Willie Randolph had infield hits and they scored on RBI singles by Thurman Munson and Reggie Jackson.

Editors note: This is the last chance to take a breath. Both the Yankees and Red Sox had Sept. 25 off, so the blog will return for the final week of the season on Sept. 26.

September 16, 1978

There were about 55,000 very happy people today at Yankee Stadium when the Yankees beat the Red Sox again – that’s right, again – this time 3-2 when Thurman Munson’s line drive sacrifice fly to right drove home Mickey Rivers with the game-winning run.

But I’m gonna go out on a limb and say the two happiest people were me and my left field bleacher bum buddy, Frankie. The Yankee victory, their sixth in a row over Boston in a span of 10 days, was a big part of it, but so was David Lassiter.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?” I said, probably with a bit of girlie scream, which I really hate, but I couldn’t help it.

“Just thought I’d surprise you,” was David’s response when he found me outside the room where the employees punch in for work at the stadium. David had driven in from Rochester because his father, Mr. Lassiter, had come up with a ticket for the game through one of his PR connections with the team.

“He knew I missed you,” David said with that killer smile of his.

“Well, he’s right,” I said as I gave him a bear hug and a kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Mickey Rivers led off the ninth inning with a triple, and scored the game-winning run moments later.

“You working upstairs?” David asked.

“Yeah, you know me, left field bleacher girl, but that’s OK because there’s gonna be a lot of people up there today.”

That’s where Frankie comes in. David and I went up there about a half hour before the game so I could start selling, and David found Frankie in his customary seat and offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse.

“Hey, Frankie, how about you and me switch seats today,” David said as Frankie gave him a what-are-you-talking-about look. “You gimme your seat, and you can have this one down in the lower boxes, right behind the Yankees dugout.”

“What’s the catch?” Frankie said as he inspected the ticket that David handed him.

“No catch, I just want to hang out with Maria while she’s working, and I can’t do that from down there,” explained David.

“Deal,” Frankie said, packing up his stuff. “You’re nuts, but what the hell, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of true love.”

He winked at me as he made his way out of the row, and I gave him a peck on the cheek and said, “Thanks, Frankie.”

“You know you just gave away one of the best seats in the house,” I said to David.

“Yeah, and it’ll be worth it,” he said.

Have I told you I really like him? Yeah, I guess I have.

Even though I didn’t have too much time to chat during the game because I was really busy, it was awesome to have David in the vicinity. And once the game was over, we jumped in his car, drove into the city for a bite to eat, met Mr. Lassiter for a while in the lounge at the Marriott where he was staying, and then we went to a new club I’d been wanting to check out.

While we were eating, we had plenty to catch up on, but naturally, two big Yankee fans like us, the game consumed some of the conversation. It was a thriller, to say the least.

Jim Rice hit a two-run homer off Catfish Hunter in the top of the first and for the first time in the six games these teams have played during this stretch, the Red Sox had a lead. But in the bottom of the first, Willie Randolph, Thurman Munson and Reggie Jackson singled off Mike Torrez to get one run back, and then Jackson hit a solo homer on an 0-2 pitch in the fifth to tie it.

Thurman Munson's game-winning RBI created further distance between the Yankees and Red Sox.

Hunter and Torrez both pitched well, and there was no more scoring until the bottom of the ninth. That’s when Rivers led off with a triple that sailed over the head of Carl Yastrzemski who had just moved out there from first base. Yaz definitely appeared to be playing Rivers a little too shallow, and when we met up with Mr. Lassiter, he said Rivers thought that, too.

“If I was playing me, I would have been playing deeper,” Mick the Quick said to Mr. Lassiter and the other reporters. “I was trying to go that way.”

Mr. Lassiter also went into the Boston clubhouse and he said Yaz disagreed. “I was playing where I wanted to play him,” Yaz said.

Right or wrong, Rivers was there on third with nobody out and the fans were on their feet going crazy, sensing another victory. I put down my cotton candy board in the aisle to watch what happened next.

The Sox brought the infield in and it worked perfectly when Randolph grounded out to short and Rivers had to stay put. Up next was Munson, and Don Zimmer decided not to walk him to set up a double play. That wound up being a bad decision. After a called strike and a fouled off squeeze bunt attempt, Munson took a ball, then fought off a tough pitch on the inside of the plate and lined it to Rice who was playing right field. Rice made a nice catch while falling down, but he had no chance to throw out Rivers who tagged and scored the winning run.

“We’re in tough shape,” said Zimmer. “I guess we have to win today and then win eight in a row.”

Paul Blair, for one, didn’t think that was possible because as far as he could tell, the Yankees have simply sucked the life out of the Red Sox with utter domination.

“This one could kill them,” said Blair of the Red Sox, who have now lost 14 of 17 games and are 3 ½ games behind New York with 14 left to play. “They played well, they got good pitching, and we beat them anyway. They’re hurting now. Can they come back? I’d say their chances are mighty, mighty slim.”

September 7, 1978

I was watching the Red Sox take batting practice before tonight’s opener of the big series with New York, and Don Zimmer walked over and somberly said, “Zack, we’ve got our work cut out for us this weekend.”

“Zim,” I said in reply, “I think you do.”

The scoreboard, and Carl Yastrzemski's posture, tell the story. It was 11-0 after 3 1/2 innings and the Yankees went on to an easy 15-3 rout.

Carlton Fisk has sore ribs that are limiting him when he swings; Carl Yastrzemski is wearing a corset for his bad back; Butch Hobson’s arm is ready to fall off; George Scott is playing with a broken finger; and Dwight Evans is suffering from lingering headaches relating to his recent beaning. At least they can try to play, and Zim said they’d all be in the lineup. Not so for second baseman Jerry Remy whose wrist is too messed up, so Zim had to pencil in Jack Brohamer.

Beyond the injuries, the Red Sox are wobbling psychologically. Their once-impregnable 14-game lead is down to four, and here come the red-hot Yankees, as confident as they’ve been all season, their bickering behind them, their injuries mostly healed, ready to pounce on wounded prey. The picture in my mind was the look on the face of a defenseless gazelle when a cheetah comes flashing out of the African brush.

And as I sat in the press box at Fenway Park tonight, I could sense angst in the ballpark as the fans began filing in. There was the usual revelry that always accompanies a game between these teams, no matter which city they’re playing in. Fans on both sides of the sport’s fiercest rivalry exchanging expletive-filled chants back and forth, but tonight you could feel a certain tension amongst the Boston faithful. The Yankees have them scared.

For good reason, as it turned out.

By the time the Red Sox came to bat in the bottom of the fourth inning, they were already trailing, 12-0. Before Butch Hobson, the eighth hitter in the Red Sox lineup, even came to bat, Thurman Munson already had three hits! I’m not going to pretend that I can always read a situation, but I had this one dead on. The Sox were out of this game before it even started.

The final wound up being 15-3 as Boston’s starter, the slumping Mike Torrez, was gone before he’d retired a batter in the third. And Andy Hassler, Dick Drago and Bill Campbell didn’t fare a whole lot better as the Yankees finished with 21 hits.

“The only good thing is that this is only one game,” said Zim. “Maybe we tired them out. They had scheduled extra hitting (tomorrow) afternoon. They called in the fifth inning and cancelled it. Tonight I was trying to figure out how to score three touchdowns.”

There wasn't much Don Zimmer could say after his Red Sox were pummeled by the Yankees.

Zim is a piece of work, I’ll give him that. But his approach in his post-game press conference was the right one. What else could he say? The game was a disaster, but he was right, it was only one game, and he tried to defuse the tension with some humor. Whether it works or not, I don’t know.

“This game’s over,” said Evans. “What’s the difference if you lose 1-0 or 15-3? It’s one loss. That’s baseball.”

Torrez has not pitched well lately and he’s only 4-4 since the All-Star break. He struck out Mickey Rivers to start the game, but then Willie Randolph reached on an error by Hobson, and when Munson and Reggie Jackson singled and Chris Chambliss hit a sacrifice fly, it was 2-0.

In the second, the first six Yankees to bat reached base on five singles and a walk, and that raised the count to 5-0 and ended Torrez’s night. Hassler came in and played the role of chewing gum trying to plug the dyke. Four more hits in the third made it 7-0, and when the first two men singled to start the fourth, Zim yanked Hassler in favor of Drago.

Once again, the pitching change didn’t matter. Hobson made another error which loaded the bases, then Roy White singled home two runs, and a little bit later, Randolph doubled home three to make it 12-0. At that point, many fans began walking out of the park, and Evans said he would have, too.

“We showed them that we came to play,” said Reggie Jackson, who was back in the lineup and contributed an RBI single. “But they can come back and score 15 tomorrow. We have to keep the pressure on them now.”

The only downer for the Yankees was Catfish Hunter suffered a groin injury in the fourth inning and had to come out. But Ken Clay went in and pitched the final six innings to get an easy win. And Thurman Munson took a pitch off his noggin and had to come out of the game. Both of them said they’d be fine.

At the end of the night I walked out of the park with Ray Fitzgerald, one of the columnists for the Globe, and he said that in his column, he wrote that the turning point of the game was when Yankees bus made it from the Sheraton without going over a cliff.

August 28, 1978

John Gaffney, our forever football coach, is always sayin’ how baseball is a game for wimps, at least when you compare it to the rugged world of football. But we were reminded tonight just how dangerous baseball can be, and it sure ain’t played by wimps.

Dwight Evans was knocked unconcious when he was hit in the head by a pitch thrown by Seattle's Mike Parrott.

In the seventh inning, Dwight Evans took a fastball right off his head, and if he didn’t have a helmet on, he might very well be dead.

Everyone let out a big groan when Mike Parrott’s pitch came buzzin’ in on Evans, and he couldn’t get out of the way in time. You could hear the sickening thud over the TV, so I can only imagine what it must have sounded like in the ballpark.

George Scott was right there, and he said, “I was in the on-deck circle. I rushed up to him after he was hit. He started talking, then boom, he was out. I was scared stiff.”

Evans had to be taken off the field on a stretcher, and the Red Sox team doctor, Arthur Pappas, said in a post-game press conference that Evans’ return to action, “depends on his vision and whether he has any dizziness. He was unconscious for a minute or two and if it wasn’t for that helmet, he would have been out cold a lot longer.”

While Evans was being taken to Mass General, he missed one hell of a finish as the Red Sox rallied for three runs in the ninth to beat Seattle, 10-9. And for the second day in a row, Butch Hobson delivered the game-winnin’ hit, a RBI double that was the 13th two-bagger of the night, and the 33rd hit overall. “I’m lucky to be coming up with men on base right now,” Hobson said. “It’s easier to hit that way.”

Fred Lynn enjoyed a 5-for-5 night and was in the middle of the winning rally.

Fred Lynn led off the inning with a single, which made him 5-for-5 for the night. A rookie named Gary Hancock singled to right, and then Scott amazingly laid down a sacrifice bunt, which I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the big lug even try before. Seattle’s first baseman, Dan Meyer, fielded the ball and tried to nail Lynn at third, but he threw it away and the ball went into the dugout which sent Lynn home and the other two men to second and third. Hobson came up and hit a rocket that banged off the wall in center and Hancock and Scott scored easily.

“With this club I always feel like we can pull any game out,” said Don Zimmer.

Of course, it wasn’t lookin’ so good early when Mike Torrez celebrated his 32nd birthday with a shower by the third inning. All of the sudden he’s pitchin’ like crap as he gave up six hits, two walks and four runs. His teammates gave him a 3-1 lead in the second as Hobson lined a two-run double, but Torrez got tagged for four extra-base hits in the third which resulted in Seattle takin’ a 4-3 lead. Zim called in his new long reliever, Bill Lee, and he wasn’t that much of an improvement as he gave up three runs on four hits.

Still, it didn’t matter because the Sox kept poundin’ Seattle’s weak pitchin’ staff until they finally had enough runs to win the game.

Yankees update: Ed Figueroa had a no-hitter for six innings, and wound up giving up just three hits over eight innings as New York topped California, 4-1. “With pitching like we had tonight I’d still say we have a hell of a chance,” said Bob Lemon. Thurman Munson drove in a pair of runs, and Goose Gossage earned his 19th save. “We have it all together now,” Figueroa said.

August 26, 1978

There’s this older guy who sits up in the third deck out in left field, and he’s there just about every game – or at least, I should say, he’s there whenever I’ve been up there working. His name is Frankie, and he was razzing me pretty good.

“Hey Maria, looks like you got a helper tonight, huh?” Frankie said as I moved up and down his section, hawking cotton candy.

“Yeah, Frankie, he comes pretty cheap so I keep him around,” I said. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, ya know what I mean?”

What Frankie was talking about was David Lassiter following me around like a puppy dog, which was really pretty cute, to tell you the truth.

Mike Torrez created a stir in the Red Sox clubhouse.

David was off from work tonight, a rarity for him on a Saturday, so he bought a ticket up there and spent the night going from section to section with me as I worked. The Yankees were playing Oakland, so there were plenty of seats available, and David had no trouble finding places to sit while I was selling my product. Then he’d walk back to the supply area with me when it was time to re-load.

Throughout the night we talked about plenty of things, including the news from Boston – which he got in a phone conversation with his father – that the Red Sox had a little clubhouse issue yesterday that hit the papers today.

Apparently, Mike Torrez questioned how the team goes about scoring its runs, which seems awfully stupid to me because they score lots of them, and that’s a good thing for Torrez and the rest of their pitchers.

“We’ve got to stop going for home runs and get back to bunts, hit-and-runs, and the little things it takes to win ballgames,” Torrez said. “You don’t win pennants with just home runs. You win them with regular baseball.”

Mr. Lassiter told David that this didn’t sit well with the hitters, nor did Don Zimmer appreciate it. “There must be something in there that says he’s not just a pitcher, but a player-manager,” Zimmer said. “Why is it always after a loss that a pitcher says this? How come he never has anything to gripe about when he wins on a home run? I wish he’d just pull his own chain. We all make mistakes and that includes pitchers. I think it’s an unwarranted statement, but like I said, maybe there’s a clause in his contract that I don’t know about that says he’s a manager, too.”

Jim Rice called out Torrez by saying, “Hey, we’re losing because he’s nibbling and giving up base hits to Punch and Judy hitters. If he’d get out there and challenge somebody, he’d get them out.”

Graig Nettles hit a game-winning homer in the bottom of the eighth to beat Oakland.

Very cool. This is what the Yankees need, a little tension and turmoil in that Boston clubhouse. If we can get them fighting amongst themselves, maybe they’ll start stumbling a bit and we might still stand a chance in the race.

When I wasn’t selling cotton candy or talking to David, I managed to sneak a few peaks at the game, and it sure was exciting to see Graig Nettles launch a game-winning home run in the eighth to beat Oakland, 5-4. The funny thing is, Nettles hit it right where there was a sign on the facing of the second deck in right field that read “Albany Loves Nettles.” I heard him say to the press after the game that he was trying to hit one right there, and, as Mel Allen would say on This Week in Baseball, ‘How about that?’

The Yankees took a 2-0 lead in the third thanks to a pair of Matt Keough wild pitches that sent two runners scurrying home. Oakland tied it in the fourth, the Yankees went back ahead in the fifth on Gary Thomasson’s sacrifice fly, and then Oakland scored a run off Dick Tidrow and one off Sparky Lyle in the seventh to go ahead 4-3.

But Mickey Rivers singled and scored on Thurman Munson’s RBI double in the bottom of the seventh, Nettles hit his winning homer in the eighth, and Lyle closed it out without a problem to get his ninth win.

One other note: Reggie Jackson was complaining last night about not hitting cleanup, but Bob Lemon had him there tonight and he went 1-for-4. It was just the third time since the start of July that Reggie has batted there. “I can change it tomorrow and I might,” said Lemon. “We don’t have any set order as far as I’m concerned. There’s an opportunity to drive in runs anywhere in this lineup. I don’t see why it’s such a big deal.”

Red Sox update: Jim Wright improved to 10-1 and Don Zimmer called him “Our Ron Guidry” as Wright threw a complete game five-hitter and beat the Angels, 7-1. Wright didn’t have to sweat this one. Boston scored six runs in the first two innings as Jim Rice hit a two-run homer and a sacrifice fly and Jack Brohamer had a two-run single.

August 23, 1978

We all knew this was comin’ and to be honest, I don’t know why the hell it didn’t happen sooner. Don Zimmer announced before the game out in Seattle that he was pulling Bill Lee out of the starting rotation. Jeez, Zim, it only took seven straight losing starts to get yer attention?

Bill Lee can't shake his slump, so Don Zimmer is going to yank him from the Sox rotation.

“I don’t have anything against the man,” Zimmer said, lyin’ through his teeth. “Don’t think I don’t wish he was 15-6. But if I told him that he’d say ‘winning isn’t everything.’ Well, winning is everything. And I know Lee believes this. That’s what this is all about. Bill Lee is a college graduate. He’s above me, and I don’t try to understand him or those words he uses. I can’t spell most of them anyway. But never, no way, do I believe Lee is not trying. Or that he is anything but a great competitor.”

It’s funny, there was just a long story – a really long story – in Sports Illustrated about Lee. And one of the best quotes in there was from Rod Dedeaux, the legendary coach of USC’s baseball team. Lee played there and helped the Trojans win the College World Series in ’68. Even then, Lee was a weirdo, and Dedeaux, who was signed by Casey Stengel to play for the Dodgers in the 30′s, said, “I always understood everything Casey Stengel said, which sometimes worried me. But I know that all my hours with Casey helped prepare me for Billy Lee.”

Well, he should have sent a manual to Zim ‘cuz Zim can’t get on the same page with the Spaceman. And that was fine when Lee was winnin’, but he ain’t anymore so Zim made the move.

Naturally, Lee was taken aback and he had plenty to say.

“My reaction? I have none,” said Lee. “That is his problem. I went into his office after the game (last night) to ask him if I could fly home a day earlier than the team. That’s when he told me I wasn’t pitching Friday and I would be in the bullpen. I’ll go out there to the bullpen and work hard. They’ve needed me before to bail this club out and maybe they’ll need me again. I’ll do it for my teammates and for baseball. But I won’t do it for those two guys (Zim and GM Haywood Sullivan).”

When Sullivan heard that Lee felt the front office didn’t appreciate him, he said, “Don’t appreciate him? If we didn’t he wouldn’t be on the roster. The decision of who is in the bullpen is strictly up to the manager. But let me say that I don’t disagree with him.”

Ruppert Jones had the big hit for the Mariners in their victory over Boston.

It looked like it might be a good night for the Sox when Jim Rice hit a two-run homer in the first and Fred Lynn had a RBI double in the third. But Mike Torrez, who like Lee has been havin’ some problems lately, couldn’t hold on. He walked the first two guys in the sixth and they both ended up comin’ home on a single by Ruppert Jones. Then, after another single, an out, and an intentional walk, Torrez gave up a two-out, two-run, go-ahead single to Leroy Stanton.

Bob Stanley gave up a run in the eighth, and the bar cleared out pretty quick after the last out. Hey, it was a bummer to lose, but they finished the West Coast trip 4-4, and they’re still six in front of Milwaukee and 7 1/2 ahead of the Yankees.

“Yeah, but don’t you get the feelin’ they’re losing their grip a little,” Danny Fitzgerald said as he pushed his stool in and waved good night.

“Come on, Danny Boy, we gotta have some faith,” I said. But ya know what, I am a little worried. Its what we Red Sox fans do.

Yankees update: Don Aase was supposed to start for the Angels against the Yankees, but he got into a minor car accident before the game and couldn’t pitch, so Chris Knapp took his place. “I didn’t find out I was pitching until halfway through batting practice,” said Knapp. He wasn’t great, but he was good enough and California won, 6-3.

“I thought we could have won more games on this trip,” Lemon said as the Yankees finished 6-5 out West. “It’s frustrating that we didn’t gain any ground on the Red Sox, but it could have been worse. They could have been winning and we would have been out of the race by now.”

Said Lou Piniella: “We have to get closer before we play them. If we’re still 7 ½ games out when we play the Red Sox, it’s not going to be good. We have to get to four or five behind, otherwise there’d be too much pressure to win every one against them.”

Editors note: Both the Yankees and Red Sox were off on August 24, so the blog will return on August 25.

What Is This?

Welcome back to 1978 and one of the most memorable Major League Baseball seasons ever. Ultimate Year in the Ultimate Rivalry is a unique Democrat and Chronicle online exclusive. It is a historical novel - composed in 21st-century blog style by sports writer Sal Maiorana - that will recreate the remarkable American League East race between the fiercest of rivals, the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox. And telling this epic story, day by day from spring training through the World Series, are three fictional characters created by Maiorana who will be right in the middle of all the action. Everything you read - the accounts of the games, the quotes, the events that occurred on and off the field - is real. However, remember that the fictional characters - Zack, Maria and Jimmy - are indeed figments of the blogger's imagination.

The Characters

Zack Lassiter: Born in Brooklyn and an ardent Dodgers fan in his youth until their sad exodus to Los Angeles, the 43-year-old sports writer now makes his home in Rochester. He got out of the daily New York City newspaper grind a few years ago and is now the American League East correspondent for the respected national weekly magazine, The Baseball Times. His primary job is to provide in-depth coverage of all the teams in the division, though in 1978 that meant spending the bulk of his time chronicling the exploits of the Yankees and Red Sox.

Maria Martinez: Her grandfather came to America from Puerto Rico in the 1920s, settled in the Bronx to work and raise his family, and became a fan of the Babe Ruth/Lou Gehrig Yankees. Her father grew up rooting for Joe DiMaggio and later Mickey Mantle. So 19-year-old Maria, whose immediate family still lives in the shadow of Yankee Stadium, didn't have much of a choice - she was born to be a Yankee fan. Not that she minds as she proudly wears her interlocking NY cap around campus at New York University, or while working the aisles at Yankee Stadium as a vendor, extolling the virtues of Reggie Jackson, Ron Guidry and Thurman Munson.

Jimmy O'Reilly: A lifelong resident of South Boston, the ruddy-faced, big-bellied, cigar-smoking owner of O'Reilly's Pourhouse has never taken a breath of air at a time when his beloved Sawx were world champions. But while they have broken his heart seemingly forever, night after night 58-year-old Jimmy pours drinks for his regular band of patrons - one of whom is Zack Lassiter when he happens to be in town - and roots with unbridled passion for Carl Yastrzemski, Carlton Fisk and Jim Rice, just as he did for Johnny Pesky, Ted Williams and Tony Conigliaro.